Tuesday, 31 May 2011

The Elviana Shore

Oh my dear god. This is so sad. I'm welling up already. And I haven't even posted it yet. Based upon The Courtship of the Yonghy Bonghy Bo I give you The Elviana Shore.

The Elviana Shore


On the coast of Elviana
Where the fireflies do glow
Wanders Tristessa Murano
From a time so long ago
Memories and lost possessions
Fevered longing and obsessions
For a distant Purple Poet
Though the Poet didn’t know it
For a distant Purple Poet
Weeps Tristessa Murano
Weeps Tristessa Murano


Once whilst standing by the coastline
Where the fireflies do glow
To a long forgotten library
Came Tristessa Murano
There she looked amongst its treasure
For the book that gave her pleasure
Sound of Silence was its name
And Tristessa felt the pain
For that sad and lonely name
Thought Tristessa Murano
Thought Tristessa Murano


‘Sound of Silence!’ ‘Sound of Silence!’
Where the fireflies do glow
"Tell me why you have to be here!"
Cried Tristessa Murano
"Why do you make me remember
Of that Poet from December?"
And she sat upon the shore
And she listened to the roar
Of the ocean on that shore
Heard Tristessa Murano
Heard Tristessa Murano


On the coast of Elviana
Where the fireflies do glow
Is a long abandoned memory
And Tristessa Murano
"You can take my lost possessions!
Fevered longing and obsessions!"
Staring up into the sky
Tristessa began to cry
As she stared into the sky
Screamed Tristessa Murano
Screamed Tristessa Murano


And her memory answered sadly
And his tears began to flow
I’m so sorry dear Tristessa
Dear Tristessa Murano
I would visit you most gladly
(And he wept there, almost madly)
But I don’t know where you are
Left abandoned somewhere far
No I don’t know where you are
Dear Tristessa Murano
Dear Tristessa Murano


And Tristessa looked around her
Where the fireflies do glow
And the memory had vanished
Where it went she did not know
And she fled the library moaning
For her Poet she was groaning
And his absence pierced her heart
And it tore her world apart
And she felt her broken heart
Sighed Tristessa Murano
Sighed Tristessa Murano


Though her hair was soft and silky
And her eyes a violet glow
Though her cloak was crimson coloured
And her father’s, Mateo
Still she longed for that one night
When she fell into the light
Of the Purple Poet’s laughter
And the happy ever after
Of that glorious cheerful laughter
Dreamt Tristessa Murano
Dreamt Tristessa Murano


Down the shore of Elviana
Raced Tristessa Murano
And she swam into the bay
Of the archipelago
Through the calm and silent sea
Did Tristessa swim and flee
As she left behind the shore
Left behind for ever more
Did she leave that wistful shore
Went Tristessa Murano
Went Tristessa Murano


Through the azure darkened ocean
Where no fireflies do glow
Back towards her distant homeland
Swam Tristessa Murano
To her precious heart’s desire
And her eyes gleam with a fire
That lit up her very soul
And it filled her being whole
Did the fire in her soul
Flood Tristessa Murano
Flood Tristessa Murano


On the coast of Elviana
Where the fireflies do glow
In a swirl of purple petals
Which fell from the sky like snow
Came the long forgotten Poet
Though Tristessa did not know it
And the Poet did declare
“Yet again she is not there”
Yes the Poet did declare
For Tristessa Murano
For Tristessa Murano

Monday, 30 May 2011

Broken Promises

After months and months and months of not writing this, I have infact written it.

It is extremely long overdue and I don't think it be very good but I hope you all enjoy.

Broken Promises

I promised I would be there for you
But I was not.
I swore to make you happy.
But I did not.
I tried to write this poem for you.
But I could not.
Empty words.
Broken promises.

Alex sighed.
A quiet, studious person
Passing constantly unnoticed
Through the bustle of life.
Patiently he waited
And waited
A good friend, supportive
Loyal and smart.
Yet quiet, too quiet
Nobody seemed to care
About his existence
He longed for recognition
For the girl of his dreams
Yet her heart belonged to lesser people
The brash, the bold, the unkind.
And black despair rose up
A great gush of anguish
Threatening to overwhelm him
A great vast emptiness
An abyss of hopelessness
As the desolation seeps through his soul.

Yet a spark of hope flares
Fuelled by his friendship
The ones who care, who notice
The encouragers.
The ones who whisper
To take a stand, to have a voice
We’ll always be with you
Eternal and unshakable.
We’re there in the darkness
We’re there in the light
In the heart of despair
And the flowers of joy.

And Alex smiles
He has his friends and his dreams
His elegant imagination
And Necros Nightbane

And I know as a fact
That Alex won’t fall
But burst into the world
And then dazzle us all.

The Frying Pan

Well this is the most fun I've had in ages. I hope that you like it. Enjoy!

The Frying Pan

A young looking girl
Eyes of sparkling blue
Her name is March Pathway
She’s known as Mar- Chu.
Her hair flies behind her
A deep crimson red
As she runs from the vampire
And jumps on its head.

She’s lively and short
(I believe four foot two)
But the vampire looks fearful
The legend is true!
Mar smiles at it sweetly
As only Mar can
Then she reaches behind her
For a large frying pan

It gleams in the twilight
Like menacing steel
As the terrified vampire
Lets out a high squeal.
He tries to surrender
But before he began
Mar walloped him hard
With her large frying pan.

The clashing of metal
The squelching of skin
Rang out through the night
A cacophonous din,
Sending fear through the hearts
Of the living undead
Who trembled and quivered
And turned tail and fled.

March Pathway kept chatting
Between the fierce blows
Annoying the vampire
Amongst his death throes.
“I’m terribly sorry” she sang with a grin
“How rude to forget whilst I’m doing you in”
“Have a cookie” she laughed, as he took his last breath
And offered the vampire a muffin of death.

The vampires’ eyes bulged
And he gargled and moaned
Whilst the muffin of death
Was dissolving his bones.
Then off skipped March Pathway
With sparkling eyes
As the vampire expired
In a chorus of cries.

Friday, 27 May 2011

Kallista is a Wonderful Person

I am known on the blogs as Octaboona Ambrosius A.K.A the Purple Poet and also as an honoured person for knowing the wonderfulness that is Kallista Pendragon. If Kallista's parents see this then I think the WORLD of Kallista. She is funny, friendly and an extremely caring individual. She is in no way whatsoever a bad influence on us. When I first joined Blogger it was Kallista who welcomed me into the world of SP gang, just as she does with all new members. To lose the person who holds our little world toegther, the glue of our society, would be devastating. So if you read this parents of Kallista, please, please let Kallista return to the blog. I would be  so incredibly sad to never talk to Kallista again.
Let Kallista return to our blog, and about a hundred people worldwide would smile to know they have their friend back.

We value Kallista so highly on this blog. She is a wonderful human being, an example to us all. Make us happy again.

Thank you

Sunday, 22 May 2011

Iridescent Indigo

So I promise that you'll have a poem atleast once a month. By month I mean a post in each of the twelve months which timewise could be a wait of two months. (1st May and 30th June). That's a poem in each month but with a two month wait. Anyway I had no poem for May so I wrote this. Enjoy!

Iridescent Indigo

A blot of deepest night ripples
Waves of luminescence flit across its surface
An orb of exquisite cerulean
Hangs silently in the heart of a diamond
Revolving gently in a crinkled crystal
A soul of iridescent indigo
Pulses in its perfect prison
Alone in a sphere of light solidified

An empty shell,
The husk of a human heart
A vacant body, a blank stare
Left abandoned in a ring of standing stones
It lies against the henge
A mindless automaton

A throb of violet
Wrenched from its home
Pulled screaming from its owner
To this callous cage
A cascade of thought gushed from the mouth
Of the Purple Poet
Draining his dreams
Consuming his mind
Ravishing his soul
Ransacking his words
Draining the poet dry

Emotions, opinions, consciousness
Gushing from every orifice
In clouds of purple vapour
A twisting, swirling tendril
Convivial, melancholy,
Fanatical, piquant
Mellifluous and dissonant
The sentient matrix of life
Stolen and incarcerated
Into a gleaming globe

The Purple Poet screamed
As the light made liquid
The wind made solid
Coalesced into his soul
Of iridescent indigo
Unable to laugh or to cry
To feel fear, or anger or hatred
Even to see, to touch, to taste
To hear birdcall or smell freshly mown grass
Transfixed in the core of a giant engulfion
Siphoning his memories
Imbibing his talent
Quaffing his sweat and tears
Guzzling his blood

Silence fell
As the last drop of ambrosia
Plundered from the wreck of
The Purple Poet
Joined the lavender agglomeration
Of the soul snatcher
As the Purple Poet finally succumbed
To the passionate ecstasy
The aphrodisiacal desires and amorous needs
The voluptuous concupiscent fantasises
Of the Nightmare Child